


Pavlov's Gibbs

by coolbyrne



Category: NCIS
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-15 05:18:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20860880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coolbyrne/pseuds/coolbyrne
Summary: Jack runs a little experiment. The bell rings; Gibbs reacts. Slibbs





	Pavlov's Gibbs

**Author's Note:**

> -The trick with Slibbs and work sex fics isn't getting Jack to go along with it, because I think she's daring enough to do it; it's getting Gibbs on board. Hope I did that here.  
-I told jenni3penny I don't write hetero porn, I write hetero tease. :p   
-Inspired by NerdyJibbsOreo's elevator fic. :)

It started innocuously enough. They had left home together though they had arrived separately, not yet wanting to publicize their newfound living arrangements. They met at the garage elevator and entered it together and everything was like the day before- until he turned to her as he always did right after he covertly squeezed her hand.

The linen shirt that he liked so much because it clung in all the right places seemed to have relinquished a button that he was sure had been done up when they had left the house. 

_One...two...yep, three._

The count was definitely not the same as it was when they said goodbye in the driveway, because they would've _definitely_ been late for work if he'd caught a glimpse of the black lace bra that his height allowed him to see. He waited for her to say something, to offer him a wink or smile filled with sass, but nothing came. She looked at the elevator numbers, squeezed his hand in return, quickly kissed his jaw and whispered "Be safe," right before the door opened to his floor. As she always did. Because she didn't say anything, neither did he, and he didn't give it a second thought.

Until the next day.

…..

With all clothing appropriately (disappointingly) buttoned, he wrote off the previous day as an anomaly, a quirky one-off that was absolutely Jack. It was almost forgotten when the elevator bell announced his floor, she whispered her usual good-bye… then brushed her hand over his ass as he stepped off the elevator. His heel clipped the edge where the floor met the elevator, but he was quick enough to catch himself before anyone saw. Her laugh told him he wasn’t _quite_ quick enough.

…..

Wednesday found her lips ‘missing’ his jaw and landing at the soft spot under his ear, where her mouth took the time to leave the faintest of marks until the elevator bell dinged and she returned to her usual position: standing ramrod straight, hands folded in front, eyes unwaveringly aimed at the numbers. Despite her cheeky audacity, he grinned as he walked to his desk.

“I got some cream for that,” Torres said, his expression devoid of the discovery he’d just made.

Gibbs snapped back to the present. “Cream for what?”

Nick scratched the same area on his neck that was now bright red on Gibbs. “For the razor burn.”

Gibbs scowled and had almost decided to never invite the young agent over on poker night, until he saw the faintest of smirks tugging at Nick’s mouth. “Anything to report on our case, or are ya gonna share beauty secrets all day?”

…..

He had let her actions of the last 3 days go by without comment, if only because his curiosity wanted to see the endgame to this elevator experiment she was clearly running. She didn’t do anything if there was anyone else in the elevator, didn’t give anything away if they shared the ride. What he _did_ find was that he was beginning to itch every time she stepped into the elevator. Itch, in the most delightful of ways.

…..

By Thursday, he was ready for anything. Or so he thought.

“Oh,” she said, turning slightly as if the thought had just occurred to her. “Here’s that money I owe you for coffee.” A 5 dollar bill was pinched between two fingers, but before he could object, she reached down to slip it into his front pocket. Slowly, her fingers dipped in, delving deeper than they both knew was necessary. Her short nails scratched lightly through the fabric, knowing exactly how he ‘dressed’, knowing how close her fingertips came to drawing out a moan from his suddenly dry mouth.

The elevator bell chimed and she squeezed his hand like she hadn’t been this close to squeezing something else. With a bright smile that conspired to keep him off-balance, she said, “Be safe.” He paused so long that the door would have closed had he not instinctively stuck his foot out. His glower did nothing but make her smile brighter.

…..

By Friday, his body began humming the second he stepped out of his truck in the parking garage. He waited for her to join him, both pretending the last 4 days hadn’t been an exercise in self-control and tease, both pretending today wouldn’t be more of the same. They stepped into the elevator, and like every other day, he reached for her hand. She returned the gentle squeeze, like every other day, but this time, added a new step to the routine. 

Turning his hand in hers so that she covered his palm, she laid it flat against her leg, mid-thigh. He could feel the soft texture of the skirt and could feel it bunch up under his fingers as she forced his hand down to the hem and drew it up again. It didn’t take long before his fingertips left fabric and touched skin. Her sigh was the first time in 5 days she gave any outward indication of the game she was playing, and he would have basked in the victory if he wasn’t preoccupied by where she was guiding his hand. The angle wasn’t quite right and thank God because the last thing he needed was to be caught in an elevator with his hand up Special Agent Jacqueline Sloane’s skirt. And yet, the lack of opportunity did nothing to prevent the image from pervading his mind. He may have been so-close-and-yet-so-far, but his imagination hadn’t gotten the memo. It was close enough to the real thing that he couldn't help the low, "Jack," that escaped his lips.

"Jethro."

It was a name she rarely uttered, even after 6 months together, and when she did, she was usually on her back with his mouth between her legs.

"Jesus."

The bell dinged and she let his hand go while smoothing down her skirt. Just before the doors opened, she quickly stretched up, kissed his jaw and whispered her morning mantra. This time, his foot didn't catch the door, and it quietly closed, resuming its ascent. And perhaps for the first time, he realized how dangerous she was, how she could convince him to walk into a burning building with a gas can strapped to his back, because the idea of hitting the emergency stop button and taking her right there against the wall had moved from 'contemplating' and was sitting firmly in 'hard possibility'. (Based on the tightness of his pants, never had an adjective been more apt.) When the corner of her mouth twitched, he knew his legendary poker face had abandoned him.

The door opened again, this time on her floor, and she quirked an eyebrow, a patient pause to see what he'd do next. Finding his feet rooted to the floor, she shrugged and winked, then made sure he had a good look at her walking away. He thanked his lucky stars he hadn't had that view to contend with every morning along with whatever else she had had in store for him. Efficiently, the doors closed once more.

…..

"Yeah. Be right down."

"Tell me we finally got something on our suspect."

Gibbs snapped his phone shut and parroted back Bishop's words. "We finally got something on our suspect." Standing, he grabbed his suit jacket. "If it's what we think it is, be ready to go when I get back." 

He sensed rather than saw the nods of approval from his team, his long strides already taking him to the elevator. When the doors opened and Jack smiled at him, he blinked, almost surprised to see her.

"Kasie's got some info on our suspect," she said.

He stood beside her and pressed the button. "Palmer said the same."

"Good. Maybe we can finally nail this bastard."

Any other time and he would've smirked at her conviction, but the last 5 mornings had settled into his brain, muddying his attention. Or maybe it was her sly side eye that made everything about him crackle with anticipation. Until now, they hadn't found themselves alone in the elevator except in the mornings, and he found himself eager to see what she'd do.

The bell announced her stop and she said, "I'll see you in 5?" 

Though it was a question, she didn't wait for an answer, and he wasn't sure he could have given her one, finding his jaw clenched shut not because of what she'd done, but what she hadn't. No touch, no tease, no tantalizing promise. Nothing. And yet his body reacted just as surely as if she'd reached into his pants and made herself acquainted with his unwanted hard on.

_Ding_

As was its job, the elevator brought him to his destination and let him know with a helpful chime. But instead of stepping off, he jabbed the button to close the door again. Because it was all suddenly very clear. 

She had conditioned him with that goddamn bell.

He chose her floor because there was no way in hell he was stepping into the bullpen with the bulge in his pants and the intent in his eyes. He glanced over the railing, and instinctively, she looked up, catching his gaze and jerking her chin up in return. Such was the intensity behind his eyes that she took the stairs double-time, meeting him at the top.

“Hey,” she said, “what did Palm- oh!” 

He grabbed her elbow, not roughly but with purpose, and led her into her office. Before she had the chance to ask, he pushed her against the closed door and growled, “The goddamn elevator bell, Sloane?”

She didn’t even bother trying to deny it. In fact, she invited him into her ruse by pulling his belt loops closer. “I had a hypothesis.”

“Was this part of it?” He turned them around and directed her to the desk, not giving a damn what was in the way. His mouth found a spot under her ear and she arched into him. 

“A good...mmmmm...a good hypothesis is always open to modification.” She tugged at his belt while his hand made its way up the inside of her thigh. He stopped abruptly when he found more than he bargained for. Or less. 

“Jesus, Jack,” he whispered against her lips. 

There was no barrier between his fingers and her heat; at some point, she had removed it for him.

“What can I say? I’m good at my job.”

He used her moment of conceit to take her by surprise, and the smugness gave way to a long, low moan.

“Shhhh,” he said, feeling her squeeze around him. He had his own moment of conceit, silently congratulating himself for sounding more in control than he felt. If this was her experiment, a test over the past 5 days, he hoped his own took a lifetime- a lifetime of testing whether or not it would always feel like this, like the first time, like the best time. Would she always bite her lip when he got the angle just right? Like that? Would her eyes always cloud over when she saw him looking back at her, in a way that must’ve told her more than his body or his whispered words could? Would she always meet him, measure for measure, until she relented under his power and let her head fall back? Like that? 

He must’ve faltered in his movements because her hand slipped between them, not touching him, but touching herself. If she thought it would help him regain his rhythm, she was mistaken, because his eyes never left her fingers.

“You like to watch, Cowboy?” she breathed, the air barely forming the words while she helped him bring her closer to the edge. When he could finally drag his eyes up to hers, she gave a crooked smile. “Good. I like it when you watch.”

His renewed intensity was her punishment for her sass, though it wasn’t much punishment if her whimpered encouragement was anything to go by. She clung to his shoulder with one hand, fingers clutching the fabric, her face buried in his neck to cover her release. The only word she said was “Jethro.”

Maybe that, and not the bell, was the real Pavlovian experiment all along, because hearing his name moaned against his throat was all he needed. He arched over her, forcing her back, her hand letting go of his shoulder to find purchase on the desk while his slid up between her shoulder blades to hold her firm. The crash of something hitting the floor barely registered, both focusing on holding the high as long as they could. At last, breathing and heartbeats stuttered to normalcy.

Licking her lips while trying to collect herself, she watched him pull himself together and smirked, “Couldn’t have done that in the elevator?”

He looked up from his belt and answered her smirk with one of his own. “Yeah. But I don’t know if my knees could’ve.”

They were just collecting the scattered suckers from the floor when a knock came to the door. Hearing Jack’s invitation, Ellie poked her head inside.

“I-” She looked at Gibbs and Jack who were standing over the strewn lollipops and the upturned bowl. Her eyes went to the desk and catalogued the paperwork that didn’t quite meet Jack’s neatness standards. They finally landed on Gibbs who stared back, unperturbed. 

“You- got a point, Bishop?”

“Yeah. I- No, wait. Jimmy said he called you downstairs but you never came.” She saw Jack press her lips together to hold back a laugh, and suddenly, Bishop felt her ears turn red. “I’m just going to- I’m just going.”

She had almost escaped her mortification when Gibbs called her back. 

“Bishop.”

“Yeah?” 

He tossed her a yellow sucker. “I’ll meet ya down there.”

Happy things were back on track and as far away from her imagination as possible, she nodded. “Okay.”

“That poor girl,” Jack lamented. “She just about walked in on Mom and Dad making out.”

Gibbs rolled his eyes, unsympathetic. “Woulda been your fault.”

“My fault??”

He leaned in and lightly kissed her. “Pretty sure we’ve debunked the innocent act, Sloane.” 

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“Uh-huh.” 

“Oh! I’ve got the information Kasie gave me. Why don’t you meet Bishop and I’ll see you in 5? For real, this time. Unless…” She let the insinuation trail, and any feigned confusion about his ‘innocent’ comment was completely gone.

“Five minutes,” he said, trying to instill some gruffness to his voice. His hand had just touched the doorknob when he heard it.

_Ding_

Slowly turning, he stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Jack standing impishly at her desk, cell phone in hand. 

“It’s my new ringtone.”

He didn’t give her the satisfaction of seeing his chuckle as he left the office.

…..

-end


End file.
